The realization sent a bolt of ice through my veins.
I grabbed Sophia's wrist, my nails digging into her skin. "We have to go."
"What the hell is happening?!" she gasped, eyes wide with panic.
Julian was already moving. "Move, now!"
The crowd surged around us, bodies crashing into each other in a frantic attempt to escape. People were screaming, running in every direction, their faces twisted in terror. The flashing lights made it worse, turning the scene into a disorienting blur of color and shadow.
I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
The neon exit signs flickered in the distance, but they might as well have been miles away. There were too many people, too much chaos between us and safety.
Then I saw it—a door, half-hidden behind a heavy curtain.
"In here!" I shouted, yanking Sophia and Julian toward it.
My hands fumbled for the handle, my pulse hammering so hard I thought I might collapse. The moment I pushed the door open, we stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind us.
Darkness swallowed us whole.
The noise of the club was instantly muffled, leaving only the sound of our ragged breathing and the distant echoes of pounding footsteps.
The air was thick, stale, carrying the faint scent of dust and damp stone. My heart was racing, my skin slick with sweat.
Then, something else.
A sound that sent a chill down my spine.
Footsteps.
Above us.
Slow. Measured. Deliberate.
I wasn't the only one who heard it.
Sophia grabbed my arm, her breath shaky. "Where are we?"
Julian exhaled sharply, scanning the dark hallway ahead of us. "I don't know," he muttered. "But we can't stay here."
The hallway twisted and turned, leading us deeper into the mansion. The sounds of chaos from the club were fading, but the silence was worse.
Then, Julian froze.
"Wait," he whispered, his body going completely still. His eyes met mine, then Sophia's. "Do you hear that?"
I held my breath.
There it was again.
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Not just above us now.
Ahead.
My throat tightened. My hands curled into fists at my sides. None of us spoke, but the fear in the air was tangible.
Someone was down here.
Without a word, Julian pushed open another door, revealing a steep, narrow staircase leading downward into total darkness.
"After me," he whispered.
We followed, moving quickly but carefully. The stairs were uneven, the air colder the deeper we went. Darkness wrapped around us, thick and suffocating.
I stumbled. Sophia caught my arm before I could fall, her grip tightening.
"Keep going," Julian murmured, barely audible over our own ragged breathing.
The stairs felt endless, twisting downward into something deeper, something unknown. My legs ached. My chest burned with the effort of holding back the fear clawing inside me. But we couldn't stop.
Finally, we reached the bottom.
Julian pushed open a door, revealing yet another corridor, this one narrower, the ceiling lower. A damp, musty scent clung to the air, the stone walls slick beneath my fingertips. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped steadily, the sound echoing ominously through the passage.
"Where are we?" Sophia asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Julian shook his head. "I don't know. But we have to keep moving."
I nodded, ignoring the dull ache in my ankle. The lighting here was terrible. I could barely see more than a few steps ahead. I cursed myself for leaving my phone at home—its flashlight would have been useful. Julian's phone cast a faint glow, but it wasn't enough.
Then—
"Wait."
This time, it was Sophia who whispered.
We stopped dead in our tracks.
And then I heard it.
Footsteps.
Closer this time.
Heavy. Intentional.
Coming from the other end of the corridor.
My blood ran cold.
We weren't alone.
And whoever was down here with us—
They were coming.
The footsteps stopped.
The silence that followed was worse—dense, waiting. My breath caught in my throat. Whoever was down here with us wasn't in a rush. They knew exactly where we were.
Sophia's fingers dug into my arm. Julian moved in front of us, his phone casting weak, flickering light that barely reached the walls. The air was damp, tinged with something metallic, something that made my stomach twist.
Then—
A voice. Low, calm. Too calm.
"You shouldn't be down here."
A shadow peeled away from the darkness. A man, tall, his face obscured by a black mask. He stepped forward, deliberate and unhurried, his gloved hand tightening around a gun. In the dim glow of Julian's phone, something else gleamed—a knife.
Oh, God.
Panic surged through me, sharp and cold. We needed to move, now, but my body wouldn't cooperate. The way he was looking at us—like we were already dead—froze me in place.
Julian exhaled sharply. "Run."
The masked man lunged.
Everything blurred.
A hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. My body jerked, my breath leaving me in a sharp gasp as I collided with something solid, unyielding.
Not something. Someone.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I twisted—
Vladimir.
For a split second, the world stopped.
His fingers encircled my wrist, firm but careful, his touch searing through my skin like a brand. His face was partially in shadow, but I could still see the sharpness in his eyes, the cold calculation behind them.
He wasn't supposed to be here. He had disappeared. But now he stood between me and the masked man, his presence radiating something dark, something lethal.
His gaze flicked to the attacker, and his lips curved—not into a smile. Something colder.
"You're making a mistake," Vladimir murmured, his tone almost amused.
The masked man stiffened.
For the first time, I saw something in his stance—hesitation. Fear.
"You—" The man's voice faltered before firming. "This isn't your business, Volkov."
Volkov? He's other name's volkov?I thought to myself.
Vladimir tilted his head slightly. "Isn't it?"
A slow, measured clap echoed through the corridor. I turned just as two men in dark suits emerged from the shadows behind Vladimir. His men.
One of them—a tall man with a buzz cut—cracked his knuckles.
The masked man's grip tightened on the knife, his stance shifting like he was preparing for a fight.
Vladimir sighed, almost lazily. "Leave."
For a moment, I thought the man might listen. Then his arm jerked forward, the knife flashing toward Vladimir in a reckless arc.
I barely had time to gasp before everything happened at once.
Vladimir moved first.
Effortless. Precise. A step to the side, a sharp twist—he caught the man's wrist before the blade could reach him. In a single, fluid motion, he wrenched the attacker's arm back and drove him against the wall. A harsh grunt of pain echoed in the narrow passage.
The knife clattered to the ground.
One of Vladimir's men moved in, seizing the man's other arm and pinning him with brutal efficiency.
My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears. I had never witnessed a fight before,I was too protected growing up.There was no wasted movement, no unnecessary force. Just cold, effortless control.
Vladimir exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he had been mildly inconvenienced.
Then he turned to me.
His gaze swept over me, sharp and assessing. "Are you hurt?"
I forced myself to breathe. My chest still felt tight, my pulse uneven. "I—I'm fine."
Vladimir didn't look convinced. His eyes flicked to my wrist, where his fingers had been only moments ago, then back to my face.
"Good," he murmured. But the way he said it—soft, deliberate—made warmth creep up my spine.
Sophia made a strangled sound beside me. "What the hell is going on?"
Julian looked between me and Vladimir, suspicion flashing across his face. "Who are you?"
Vladimir ignored them both.
Instead, he turned back to his men. "Take care of this."
The words were casual, but there was no question about what they meant.
One of his men gave a sharp nod, tightening his grip on the attacker. The masked man struggled against the hold, but it was useless.
Vladimir's attention returned to me. Only me.
"Come on," he said, like it was a suggestion. Like I had a choice.
But we both knew I didn't.
My feet moved before I could argue. Julian and Sophia exchanged wary glances before following, but my focus was still on Vladimir—the way he moved through the passage with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he was going.
We wove through the underground maze, past damp stone walls and old, rusted doors that shouldn't have been there. My mind buzzed with questions, but I couldn't seem to form them.
Minutes later, we stepped out into an alleyway. The air outside was sharp and cool, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the tunnels. A sleek black car was waiting, engine humming softly.
Vladimir opened the door, then looked at me. Waiting.
I hesitated.
This felt like a line I shouldn't cross. A step into something I didn't understand.
But Vladimir didn't rush me. He just stood there, watching, letting me decide.
I swallowed hard—and got in.
Sophia and Julian slid in after me, silent and tense. The door shut with a quiet click, sealing us inside.The interior was dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of the city outside. The scent of leather and something distinctly Vladimir lingered in the air.
I could feel him beside me—close but not touching, his presence impossible to ignore.
As the car pulled away, he finally spoke.
"You shouldn't have been there."
It wasn't a question.
I turned to him, my throat tightening. Not answering but sending a glare in his direction.
Vladimir's lips twitched—not quite a smirk, not quite a frown.
For a second, the tension between us changed—became something else entirely.
Something I wasn't sure I wanted to name.
The city lights blurred outside the window, and I knew—this wasn't over.